


pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie

by eatcheeseliveforever



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatcheeseliveforever/pseuds/eatcheeseliveforever
Summary: By the time Eddie had finished filling out the paperwork, Richie was in love.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	1. local idiots terrorized by tiny dog

**Author's Note:**

> Finally cleaning this up and posting it on AOOO. There is beautiful artwork from the talented Mimifrand for these two idiots and their demon monster dog [here](https://mimifrand.tumblr.com/post/190524233388/local-idiots-terrorized-by-tiny-dog). And yes, I stole the first chapter title from that, because it describes their life post-Pomme perfectly.
> 
> New installments in Richie and Eddie's dog tribulations will be written and posted as the inspiration strikes.

By the time Eddie had finished filling out the paperwork, Richie was in love. 

He was squatting outside one of the clear glass kennels, making goofy faces and smoochy noises at a large dark brown pitbull mix that weighed seventy pounds if it weighed an ounce. The dog was grinning goofily back and wagging its tail so hard it looked like it was going to fall over. Which was more than probable, because it only had three legs. 

"Oh!" said the shelter worker who'd filed their paperwork. She hadn't seemed too thrilled by Richie at the start of the interview, and Richie had only made it worse, but apparently going nuts over one of the dogs had redeemed him. "That's Peaches, would you like to go in to meet her?"

There was a sign on the door saying Peaches & Pomme, bonded pair. Eddie watched as Peaches crawled into Richie's lap and squirmed around for a bellyrub. 

"She's been here forever," said the shelter worker. 

"How?" asked Richie. "She's perfect." He picked up a pink rubber bone and started squeaking it. Peaches raised her head long enough to accept the bone, then squeaked it contentedly while Richie kept petting her. 

Eddie coughed. "Are there any medical issues we should know about?" When he'd suggested they adopt an animal, he'd kind of been hoping they'd get a dog who'd go jogging with him. "Or social?"

"The amputation's old, and clean. She walks just fine--won't be up to a twenty-mile hike any time soon--"

"Me neither," volunteered Richie. 

"But she's otherwise healthy. She's housetrained, and had all her shots. Socially--she's good with other dogs, kids, adults. Generally pretty mellow. I do have to disclose that not long after she came to us, we had her out at an adoption fair and she attacked a clown."

"Eddie," Richie breathed. 

Eddie couldn't argue with that. She was perfect. And walking was good for the heart. 

"We think she might also hate mimes."

"Who's a good girl?" asked Richie. "Who's the very best girl?"

"And the other dog?" asked Eddie. "The sign says they're bonded." 

There was some yipping outside in the corridor that ran along the back of the cages. Peaches bolted from Richie's lap and grabbed a mangy, mauled stuff animal, her tail wagging. 

"Pomme is a little dog-aggressive. She gets separate walks so she can work on her training, but generally she's very sweet and--"

The door from the corridor opened onto a fucking Pomeranian. 

"Richie," said Eddie, and grabbed at him. Richie put one arm around him protectively. 

The shelter worker totally misread the situation. "Yeah, she's cute," she said, and picking up Pomme, began to scratch her ruff, "and everyone wants to adopt _her_ , but if they won't commit to Peaches, they're not committed to her mental and emotional well-being," she added fiercely. "It's like they don't understand what bonded pair means."

"Uh," said Richie, "I--"

"We understand," said Eddie. If that thing woke him up in the middle of the night with its beady black eyes staring down into his soul, though, he was seriously going to consider crate training.


	2. by any other name

Richie was chilling on the couch, giving Bill shit on Twitter with one hand and Peaches pets on the belly with the other, when Eddie stormed in, carrying Pomme in his arms like the evil baby she was. 

"So," said Richie, "I take it the dog park wasn't a huge success."

Eddie unbuckled Pomme's harness. She wriggled out of it, drank pointedly from Peaches's water bowl, even though it was bigger than she was, and then came over to yip at Richie until he put his phone down and lifted her onto the couch, where she promptly fell asleep. 

"She tried to bite a Doberman's face off," said Eddie. 

Richie reached out to ruffle Pomme's ears, but she woke long enough to glare at him until he moved his hand away. "Maybe the Doberman started it?"

Eddie sighed and wedged himself into the half a cushion free on the couch. "The shelter gave her the wrong name, Rich. This dog is bananas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doberman definitely started it.


	3. through the jungle of doubt to a river so deep

Eddie had always been a pretty light sleeper, and while he'd gotten good at ignoring Richie's snores over the past year, there was no way he wasn't going to be woken up by a slow creak and then the click clack click clack of nails across the floorboards.

He sighed and buried his face deeper into the pillow. "You forgot to close the fucking door, dickwad." It came out muffled but he was sure Richie got the gist of it anyway.

"I didn't," said Richie, sounding so egregiously wounded that Eddie was sure he had. "I would never." He shifted, and Eddie just _knew_ he was leaning off the bed to ruffle Peaches's ears. "She must have figured out how to open the door by herself. Clever girl."

"You realize you're comparing our non-evil dog to a fucking velociraptor, right?" groused Eddie, pushing up off the mattress. Peaches had gone all the way around their bed to beg at Richie's side, because Richie was a soft touch. "Come on, we bought her a four hundred dollar orthopedic dog bed, she doesn't need ours."

But Richie had already lifted her up. Her brindled stripes shone and her tail was a hopeful, wagging smudge in the darkness. It wasn't that she didn't like her bed. Eddie had seen her during the day, sprawled out on it, three feet in the air, snorting gently in her dreams. The problem was that Pomme also liked the bed, despite having a slightly smaller one of her own. Usually she was content to share Peaches's bed with her, sometimes by sleeping on top of Peaches while she dozed in it, but this might have been one of those times where Pomme had sprawled out in the middle of the bed and growled at anyone who seemed to be thinking about moving her. For a dog that weighed less than ten pounds, she did an extremely effective, and aggressive, anvil impersonation.

 _And_ it was one of the few nights in California where it was actually cold. And Peaches didn't have that thick a coat. And her joints needed all the support they could get. And Richie had had a massive bed even before Eddie'd moved in, even if Eddie had made him get a new mattress because Richie's had probably been _full_ of mites and he'd never once rotated it in more than ten years.

"Fine," he said, and gave Peaches a neck rub. "You can curl up wherever."

She licked his face, which was so fucking unsanitary and did _not_ make him smile, shut the fuck up, Richie, and then made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed, her head tucked over one of Richie's legs.

"Aww," said Richie softly, and squeezed Eddie's hand in the darkness. "Thanks, Eds."

"I don't want this to become a habit," said Eddie, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Peaches's tail thumped a few times in her sleep. She looked so peaceful there, and she was radiating heat against his calves. Maybe she'd protect them, Eddie thought, planting his face back into the pillow. He'd certainly had fewer nightmares about the clown in all its guises since they'd adopted her.

And maybe it was that that, as Eddie drifted back off to sleep, brought to mind the skittering of spider legs, the panting of the Pomeranian behind the Not Scary At All door, the explosion of eldritchly high-pitched barks a foot below his head--

"No," he said, and shoved his head under the pillow for good measure. "I am not picking you up, you little monster." But Richie was already out of bed and lifting Pomme onto the comforter, where she promptly settled right between Eddie's shoulder blades.

Tomorrow he was buying and installing a bolt lock, Eddie decided, and as if Pomme could hear his thoughts, she shoved her wet nose against the nape of his neck. Or he would buy and install a bolt lock, but that would be cruel to Peaches, to leave her all alone to Pomme's mercy. "You're lucky I like the other dog," he told Pomme, who ignored him and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently a bunch of rescue groups don't want you to foster if you're not committed to keeping the dogs off beds and couches and I don't even know where to begin.


End file.
